The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1887-07-15

changed letters re yilarly two or three
, times week.
Aunt Sarahs nose was In perpetual
state of elevation, and her comments Bit
terly cutting regarding Miles imbecility,
but while those dear letters wero bringing
constant assurances of Interchangeable de-
votion Mile only laughed at her aunt's
sarcasms.
Toward the middle of the year Wills
letters occasionally failed to arrive upon
the expected day and Mile would suffer
keen disappointment. The excuse offered
for the remissness was always reasonable,
and then Mile would chide herself for
entertaining one moments doubt of. her
absent loved one.
Wills letters were full of descriptions
of the gay society of which he was evil
IDENTITY favorite.
Sometimes he alluded to some of the
young ladies to whom he had paid tri-
fling attention, "just for convenience
sake" but always wrote that the remem-
brance of ''his own little Millie' kept
him from falling captive to the charms OF
the city bellies.
After whHe he ceased mentioning
any of the parties that he attended or the
fair ladies that he met. His letters grew
short and unsatisfactory. He seemed to
be always sin hurry" and every busy"
Mile was high spirited little girl and
tried not to let him know how much she
felt his neglect, so she cultivated tardi-
ness and crispness in her letters, ''to show
him that she could be as cool as he.
1t is the easiest thing in the world for a
correspondence between lovers to go
wrong. If the green eyed monster is
looking over ones shoulder and pointing
sneeringly at sentence its meaning is
almost sure to be misconstrued. Without
the expressive human voice the English
language may be interpreted many diff
ferent ways.
When Mile had once allowed this feel
ing of resentment and suspicion to enter
her mind Wills letters no longer gave her
pleasure.
All of Aunt Sarah's dismal prophecies
occurred to her as dismal truths.
1t is natural for masculine natures to
rebel against any sort of reproaches or a
disposition to be exacting on the part of a
promised wife; also, to value least the
love which they possess. Millie had
shown Will Marston that she loved him,
and, feeling sure of her, he could afford
to be little careless.
If Mile had exercised n little tact,
which, by the way, is not often prac-
ticed by girl of II, all might have been
well.
Will was too honorable to deliberately
break promise, and would undoubtedly
have come in June if Mile had not be-
fore that time become persuaded that he
no longer loved her, and, in q moment
of offended pride, asked to be released
from her engagement. Perhaps she
hoped he might protest against her de-
cision and tenderly beg forgiveness, but
he merely wrote that she had left him no
alternative but to grant her request.
Then all the treasured letters and the
pretty diamond engagement ring were
returned, and Mile thought that her
heart was broken, but hearts do not
break so easily, as in our agony we some
times wish they did.
Millie tried to be brave and give no
sign of the suffering which took away
her bloom and made her old while young.
She had been so rich in hope and love
and pleasant thoughts, and it seemed
cruel to be bankrupted of them all.
Never in all her lonely girlhood had she
SO longed for q mother loving heart and
mothers sheltering arms as then.
Sometimes when alone in her scantily
furnished little room she would throw
herself upon her bed and cry: "Oh,
mother, mother. if ! could die and be
at rest with YOU"
About this time Mr.. Knowls was taken
very i'll, and Mile began O ministry in
the sick room.
Her whole interest came TO becentered
by her fathers bedside. "The merging
of the less trouble into, the greater" was
experienced by Mile in those days.
The spring came with the song of birds
and bleating of young lambs :, in the
meadow pastures, and Mile learned in a
school friends that Will Marston was GO
ing to marry beautiful and accom-
plished heiress, but it seemed to be the
concern Of some one whom she had
known in the past rather than of this
Mile Knowls, who, pale and anxious,
passed her days by her fathers sick bed,
soothing his passage through that stormy
valley which leads to the land beyond all
storms
The wheat fields had grown yellow,
and all nature was rejoicing in glorious
midsummer, when Mile followed her
father to his grave. A more desolate or
phan never lived. Life that had been so
sweet and dear only few short months
ago seemed now dismal thing to look
forward to. Mile wondered how she
could bear the long, tedious days and
months and years that were in ell proba-
bility ahead Of her.
Her splendid health actually seemed q
misfortune. She wished that there was
some chance of her dying young.
There is no pity in the stern, solemn
DEGREES of fate; we must accept its terms
and live out the appointed measure of our
days. ASH M
So Mile learned the lesson of en-
durance that countless thousands Of
other stricken hearts AVE been compelled
to learn.
She went To her lonely home with her